Waking Up In Vegas
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: The morning after solving a case in Las Vegas, Tony and Ziva wake up in bed...together. With little to no memory of what happened the night before. TIVA.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for weeks now, ever since musings of NCIS and Katy Perry's song, "Waking Up In Vegas" collided and I immediately thought of Tony and Ziva. One-shot for now, but I might end up posting a follow-up chapter, if this is popular enough.

NOTE: I am aware this has already been done, but I promise I did not read any similar story. No plagiarizing is intended.

Disclaimer: I own neither NCIS nor the song that inspired this burst of craziness.

* * *

**1**

_'Shut up and put your money where your mouth is  
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas  
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now  
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas'  
~Katy Perry, "Waking Up In Vegas"_

Ziva David was not alone in bed. She knew this even though she had just woken up and had not yet opened her eyes. She could sense the presence of a sleeping body beside hers, feel warm breath tickling the back of her neck.

The question was—who?

She struggled to think back on blurred memories of the day before. On a special case in Las Vegas. Apprehending the suspect. Closing the case. Going out to celebrate. With her partner. With…

"Ziva?"

Tony.

She rolled over reluctantly. Anthony DiNozzo had apparently just awakened and was now watching her with confused eyes.

"Oh no…" she groaned, reaching a hand to her forehead in an attempt to calm her splitting headache. _Hangover…_

Tony sat up quite suddenly, revealing a bit too much of his naked body.

"Oh my God, did we…?"

"It appears so," Ziva mumbled as flashes of memory flew through her mind.

_(stumbling into the room, passionate kissing, clothes flying everywhere, soft sheets, and a warm body pressed against hers)_

"No…" he said in protest. "We didn't."

_(he called her his angel, his precious angel, and she liked it, and cupids flitted across her consciousness because she was drunk and not really all there, but the alcohol smelled good on his breath)_

A sudden horrible thought occurred to her. Angels. Like the ones on the ridiculously cheesy signs they'd seen advertising authentic Las Vegas weddings.

"We got married?"

Her partner pulled away, didn't seem to care that he was temporarily exposed as he pulled jeans over his boxers and a T-shirt over his muscular abdomen.

"I really hope not, Zee. That would be bad."

Understatement of the year.

"Shut your eyes," she commanded, cocooning herself in sheets. "I am getting dressed."

"Obviously I've seen you in the nude before-"

"I. Don't. Care. Eyes closed, _now._"

--

He shut his eyes and tried to remember last night, anything at all.

_(stumbling down a crowded, bright, street, laughing, her soft, soft hands all over him)_

"You can look."

He looked. Ziva had pulled on pants and a shirt. She was watching him and biting her lip.

"What happened last night, Tony?"

"We got drunk," he told her.

"I know that. What _else_?"

He avoided her eyes. "I…don't know. But we _didn't _get married, Ziva, my gut is telling me that much."

That was not an acceptable answer, and it infuriated Ziva that she honestly could not remember the details of the evening before. She looked down at her hands, clenched tightly on the back of a chair.

Tony was rambling. "Look, you don't have to believe me, but-"

"Tony…" Ziva said suddenly, holding up her hand. "…this is not my ring."

Tony's eyes widened and he went rigid. "No…it's mine."

"I see." The response was perfectly calm, measured, controlled. The next second, she was on top of him, pinning him roughly to the bed. "What does your gut tell you _now_, hm?"

"We didn't—get—married," Tony gasped.

"You have no proof! I have no proof!" Ziva shouted, climbing off her partner and yanking her hair behind her head with a rubber band. "Isn't there any way to find out?"

Tony sat up and massaged his chest. "Probably not. There are scores of fake Elvises conducting who-knows-how-many cheap weddings every night in Vegas…"

Ziva paced back and forth in front of the window. "Unbelievable. Completely unbelievable." She spun around and pointed accusingly. "This is all _your _fault!"

Hazel eyes widened in disbelief. _"Me?_ Whose idea was it to go for a drink last night?"

"_One _drink! Not ten! You were the one that refused to leave until the key hours of the morning!"

"It's _wee _hours. And, if I recall correctly, _you're _the one who threw up in the potted plant in the hotel lobby!"

Her eyes widened. "Did that happen?"

He nodded sarcastically. "Um, yeah. Got us a few dirty looks, too, but I guess they're pretty used to it-"

"Tony!" Ziva crouched before him, grabbing his arms. "You remembered that. Which means maybe you can remember what _else _we did last night."

"Besides sex? Because I'm pretty sure we-ow!" He rubbed his cheek where Ziva had slapped it. "What was that for?"

"For seducing a drunken woman," she replied sweetly. "Focus. Try to remember."

Tony shut his eyes and Ziva watched eagerly.

"Uhmmmm…uhmmmm…"

Ziva jumped to her feet in frustration. "Tony! What are you doing?"

"Meditating. It clears the mind."

"This is serious, DiNozzo!" she yelled, throwing her arms into the air and resisting the urge to strangle the man below her.

He opened his eyes and stared up at her calmly. "I know that," he said. "And maybe if Abby was here, she could hypnotize me—or you—and we'd have better luck. But since it's just the two of us, I'm afraid you're going to have to be patient, sweet cheeks."

Ziva glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "There is no time for that! We have less than two hours to catch our plane back to D.C., and we must _know _before we face the others."

"Why?" he furrowed his brow. "We just tell them everything went well, we went to bed _separately_, and nothing else happened. You're a trained assassin. Can't you lie, Ziva?"

She tilted her head to the side and smiled slightly. "I can. You can't."

He stood and shrugged. "I get it. But what if we find out that we did indeed marry—and have to face the music? You said it yourself—I can't lie."

"You won't have to. _I _will lie, and you will snap your mouth."

"It's not _snap_, it's—never mind." He took a deep breath, pacing to the window and staring out. "Anyway, we _didn't _get married. I would _know_!"

"I think you put far too much faith in your gut, Tony," Ziva said, shaking her head.

"Never lets Gibbs down," Tony replied without turning.

"You are not Gibbs."

The gentle reminder made her partner turn.

"No. I'm not," he conceded. "Because Gibbs would never had made the stupid mistakes we made last night."

Ziva sat on the bed, putting her chin in her hands. "I feel like an idiot."

Tony sat next to her. "Me too."

"You look like one," she quipped, reaching a hand to his head. "Your hair is sticking up everywhere."

"Thanks, Zee-vah," he said jokingly, and she laughed.

They grinned at each other for another moment before the situation wormed its way in, and their smiles faded.

"We are still in a big predicament," Ziva said, glancing around at the messy room. "There has to be something here that will jog our memories."

"Well, we _are _federal investigators," Tony said professionally. He grinned and dropped to his knees on the floor. "Time to put that training to good use."

"This is not a crime scene," Ziva said, staring at her fellow agent's back as he looked under the bed.

Tony's reply was muffled. "It might as well be. We broke one of Gibbs' rules. Rule #12."

"Never date a coworker," Ziva recited, proud of her memory. "We did not _date_, Tony."

"Yeah, we pretty much skipped that part," Tony snorted, grunting as Ziva kicked him in the spine. He crawled backwards into view and glared. "Would you please stop doing that?"

"I do not understand how you can joke about this! It is infuriating."

"Y'know," Tony said slowly, rolling back onto his heels. "I think they give out certificates when people get married. Even in Vegas."

Ziva's eyes brightened and she leapt to her feet. "So if we do not find one, we are not married?"

"No, I think it'd be more accurate to say that if we _do _find one, we _are _married. If we were really that drunk, there's a chance we could have lost it en route to the hotel."

Ziva's shoulders slumped. "Great. So we will not know for sure."

He grinned and gave her the thumbs up. "Now you've got it. But, hey—if it really is lost, no one ever has to know. We can pretend it never happened."

"Except that, legally, I will be Ziva DiNozzo!"

"Some women keep their maiden name—don't you dare!" For she had advanced toward him with her hand raised to strike. He shrank away in surrender. "All I'm saying is, don't give up."

"I am not giving up," she protested, lowering herself to the ground beside him and gingerly lifting one of his shirts out of her way. "So we look for this certificate thing."

"It's our only lead," Tony confirmed. As he reached for a pile of things, his phone rang from the table across the room.

They both stared at it.

"Maybe they will go away…" Ziva whispered.

Tony, however, stood and moved forward. "Not if it's Gibbs."

Ziva caught him by the elbow. "Let _me _talk to him. Remember…I can lie." At his acquiescent nod, she rose and answered the cell, shutting her eyes briefly.

_Please let him believe me._

"Agent DiNozzo's phone!" she answered brightly.

"_Ziva, that you?"_

"Of course, Gibbs, who did you expect?"

Her boss chuckled slightly. _"Well…you _are _in Vegas. Tell me DiNozzo didn't get married to a pole-dancer."_

Ziva struggled to keep her voice even. "I promise you…he did not get married to a pole-dancer."

Tony's eyes widened when he heard this. He gave her a meaningful look, and she mouthed, _Keep looking!_ He nodded and turned away.

"_Well, that's a relief. I'll expect you both back here tomorrow morning, reports on my desk."_

"We will work on the plane," Ziva promised, watching Tony frantically search the dresser. "See you tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow," _Gibbs affirmed, and Ziva hung up, letting out a sigh of relief.

"He believe you?" Tony asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Ziva tossed the phone back onto the table. "I did not have to lie. I am not a pole-dancer."

"And we are probably _not _married, because I have not yet found any papers proving otherwise," Tony murmured.

Ziva began to help him search.

"It's like you said—married until proven single. Yes?"

"Whatever you say...Mrs. DiNozzo."

--

An hour later, they were short on time and there was still no certificate.

"I say we're finished," Ziva ruled, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "We need to leave, and there is obviously nothing here to find."

Tony scratched his head, glancing around. Privately, he agreed with his partner, but his gut feeling was beginning to change direction.

"Fine. I'll start packing up."

"I need to go to the head. Be right back." Ziva disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, there was a shriek.

Tony jumped to his feet, images of giant cockroaches springing to his mind. He ran to the door and knocked.

"Ziva?"

"Tony," Ziva said softly from inside the room. "There is something you need to see."

He opened the door and looked inside. Ziva was standing at the sink, her mouth set in a firm line. Her shaking finger directed his gaze to the toilet.

Caught between the seat and the lid was a sheet of white paper. Tony's mind was only able to think, _How did that get there? _before it registered the words visible on the protruding half:

'-arriage Contract.' And then…their names. Signed.

He slowly looked around and met Ziva's burning gaze.

"Shit."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all so much for the positive responses to this story! I think this fic is one of my personal favorites, and I'm never going to be able to listen to the song again without thinking of Tony and Ziva! :)

I could have dragged this out a couple more chapters, but I thought it was probably best to leave it as a two-shot, because I have way too much going on right now, and I actually like it the way it is.

Enjoy!

* * *

**2**

"Ziva, d'ya think-"

"I am _not _talking to you, Tony."

The two agents were on their flight from Las Vegas back to D.C. After the terrifying revelation of earlier in the morning, Ziva had uttered a few choice curses in several varied languages before promising her partner she was already planning his unfortunate demise by way of paperclip. Then she clamped her lips shut and began a long, painful, and surprisingly effective dose of the silent treatment.

Well, effective until _now_.

It seemed that the stress of their situation plus the long flight home (and perhaps the reality of her only distraction being a dime novel she'd already finished) were beginning to take their toll on the Mossad officer, even if she was still _officially _not speaking to her fellow NCIS employee.

Tony took heart by even this curt, unfriendly rebuff. He stretched his long legs as best he could and stared out the window for a moment before trying again.

"Zee-"

"I need to use the restroom," she said suddenly, unclipping her seatbelt and standing.

"You just went less than ten minutes ago," he protested. "Please talk to me. If not for my sake…for yours. How are we gonna hide this from Gibbs?"

Ziva sighed and retook her seat, stuffing the book into the pocket in front of her. She stared at the ugly upholstery.

"Give me time to think. I will come up with something. After all, the only proof is that _thing _I found in the bathroom."

'That thing' was currently burning a hole in Tony's back pocket.

"Do we get it annulled?" he whispered, aware the word might spike the interest of their fellow passengers.

Ziva nodded, chancing a glance sideways at her husb—_(no, _not _that, not that word…)_. "…yes. As soon as we can."

After a beat, Tony smiled. "Well, that's good, because if I was married and kept seeing other women, that'd be adultery, and…"

Ziva tuned his voice out. Just the sort of response she'd expected. Whenever someone hit a nerve with DiNozzo, he immediately cracked a joke to hide his real emotions. It was like a built-in switchboard, and right now the setting was on 'distract.'

She knew better than that.

"Tony." She cut across him, and he fell silent at once, studying her as she was him. "…you do not want an annulment?"

"Of course I do!" he said quickly. "You and me? Married? Way too hinky."

Ziva swallowed back the words she would like to say and nodded.

"Well, good. Then we have nothing more to talk about. I can go back to ignoring you, yes?"

This only lasted three minutes before Tony sighed—loudly—and cleared his throat.

"You ever see 'Snakes on a Plane?'"

--

The next morning, Ziva and Tony were the first to arrive in the squadroom, a few minutes apart. They had decided the previous evening that they would pretend as though nothing was wrong, nothing had happened. If asked by Abby or McGee about what entertainment was enjoyed outside the case, Ziva would do the talking.

McGee was the next to arrive, sliding neatly into his seat and grinning at them expectantly.

"So…?"

Tony smirked. "So…what?"

"How was Vegas?"

"It was nice," Ziva said.

"_Nice?_ C'mon, you can tell me more than that!" Tim chided.

"If you wanna know how the case went down, the reports are on Gibbs' desk," Tony said, locking his eyes onto his computer screen.

McGee looked curiously from one friend to the other. "I don't care about the case. I meant, what _else _did you guys do?"

Tony's shoulders stiffened perceptibly, and his gaze slid across to Ziva, who smiled dangerously at him before turning to McGee.

"Well, there were many casinos. And many _attractive _dancers. I think Tony had a good time _investigating_ them…isn't that right?"

Tony's brow creased. She was baiting him. Testing the waters. And he didn't understand why the impish grin McGee sent his way bothered him.

He laughed for the Probie's benefit.

"Well, you know how I like them, Zee-vah!"

It was her turn to frown, and she dropped the subject. He hoped he hadn't hurt her. After all, McGee seemed content for the moment, and that was all that mattered.

"I really hope you were talking about your preference in eggs, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, rounding the corner into the bullpen.

"Morning, boss," Tony replied quickly. Caught in the act. Again.

"Our reports are on your desk, Gibbs," Ziva piped up helpfully.

Gibbs nodded briskly. "Good. You all can get back to sightseeing stories later. Grab your gear, we're headed to Georgetown."

--

By the time the team returned to NCIS headquarters, it was late in the evening. They picked up takeout on the way back and ate while writing their reports.

Abby joined them. It was clear she wanted to know about Vegas, but she also knew Gibbs would not allow idle chatter until his agents were done with their work. Finally, that seemed to be the case.

"How was the trip?" she chirped, looking excitedly from Tony to Ziva and back again.

"It was fun," Tony said, smiling.

"What did you do when you weren't working? See any shows? Gamble? Details!"

Ziva wagged a finger at her friend. "Now, Abby, you know the phrase—what happens in Vegas, _stays _in Vegas. Right?"

It wasn't the right thing to say. Abby's eyes immediately began to gleam, and McGee was now watching them closely. Only Gibbs wasn't involved, intent on his paperwork.

Tony suppressed a groan as Ziva shot him a confused look.

"You two are acting really weird," McGee commented.

"I must be tired," Tony faked a big yawn. "Should hit the hay. Tomorrow is another day!"

"'Gone with the Wind,'" Ziva commented.

"Right-o, Zee-vah." Tony stood and gathered his things, tossing his empty food carton into the trash. "See you all tomorrow."

"Wait, I'm ready to go, too. I'll walk with you," Ziva offered, turning off her desk lamp and grabbing her coat.

McGee and Abby watched them go with bemused expressions.

"Something is going on with those two," Abby said finally.

Gibbs smiled.

--

"I've been wanting to talk to you all day," Ziva told Tony as they took the elevator down to the parking garage.

"Yeah, well, we haven't had much of a chance," he told her, crossing his arms and leaning nonchalantly on the wall.

Ziva flipped the emergency switch and the elevator stopped, leaving them in semi-darkness.

"Do you have it with you?" she asked softly.

He nodded and pulled the marriage certificate out of his jacket pocket, handing it over. She examined it carefully.

"It isn't fake, Ziva," he told her.

"How does one go about securing an annulment?" she asked in return.

He shrugged. "Paperwork. A judge. Something like that. Of course, Gibbs will probably find out if we go through all that trouble. The man's impossible to hide from."

Ziva did not dispute this.

"It is warm in here," she said finally, glancing around the metal box.

"Really? I tend to think elevators are cold." Tony was watching his partner.

"And it smells. _You _smell."

"You smell, too. Like cinnamon."

She was glad he could not see her blush in the dim lighting.

"You know it would not work out between us," she told him reluctantly.

"Wouldn't it? I don't know…I've never tried."

"Jeanne?"

He flinched and took a half-step away. "You didn't have to bring her into this."

"I know. I'm sorry." And she was, genuinely. "…would you like to try?"

"You and me?" His tone was incredulous, but his heart was beating wildly.

_(yes, yes, yes)_

"Slowly. Just casual dating. Just to _see_."

He couldn't stop a smile. "Now we're _really _talking about breaking the rules."

"Tony," she said, with humor saturating her voice, "we are talking about _shattering _the rules."

His finger lifted; traced her cheek gently, and she did not pull away.

"All right," he agreed.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"Perhaps annulment can wait."

--

When the elevator doors slid open, Gibbs, Abby, and McGee were standing there expectantly.

"How come you guys shut down the elevator?" Abby asked, putting a foot inside so the doors wouldn't close. "You were in there for over ten minutes!"

Before either could stumble for an answer, Gibbs spoke, eyeing his guilty agents. "Do you want me to tell them, or are you going to?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged frantic glances.

"…what?"

"You heard me."

Tony looked like a caged animal; his eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at his boss or colleagues.

Ziva swallowed, bravely meeting Gibbs' eyes. "How…how did you find out?"

"Find out _what_?" McGee pressed.

Gibbs smirked. "DiNozzo should learn not to leave his jacket flung across his desk. Things tend to…fall out."

Tony gulped as Ziva glared at him.

"Well, I suppose the truth is out now," she said resignedly. "Tony and I…well, we drank a little too much…and had a Vegas wedding. We're married."

Abby laughed. "No, _really. _What's going on?"

"It's the truth," Tony said. "We have a certificate." And he held it out.

Abby and McGee gasped in perfect synchronization.

"_Married_?" McGee exclaimed.

"Congratulations!" Abby squealed, throwing herself at Ziva.

Gibbs was rooted to the floor in shock, and Tony suddenly realized what was going on.

"That…wasn't what you found out, was it, boss?"

The older man shook his head, blinking. "…no. I was taking about the tickets I saw for the Brain Matter concert next weekend. The ones you bought for Abby and McGee."

"You got us Brain Matter tickets?" Abby said in excitement. "_And _you're married? Too much coolness for one night!"

Tony shut his eyes and bowed his head slightly.

"Go ahead, boss. I deserve it."

Gibbs stepped forward and head-slapped both Tony and Ziva, shaking his head.

"You two have really done it this time."

"Believe me, Gibbs," Ziva said. "We know."

Abby moved out of the elevator and waved to her colleagues as the doors started to close.

"See you tomorrow…Mr. and Mrs. DiNozzo!"

--

As the elevator began to descend, they turned to each other.

"The truth is out…my little hairy butt," Ziva teased.

Tony crossed his arms, unamused.

"I want a divorce."


End file.
